Even Sourwolves Get Pop Culture Sometimes
by writerdragonfly
Summary: Stiles is attacked by two hunters in the woods while searching for his neighbor's cat, and arrow to the knee jokes ensue. Of course, there must be a reason two new hunters are attacking teenage boys in the woods, right? Cowritten with LovelyFangirls.


**Author's Note: **

_My cowriter LovelyFangirls and I were discussing my arrow to the knee fic and it somehow turned into a Supernatural fic? I don't even know. Feedback totally welcome and encouraged!_

_Set vaguely in season 3a. Melissa knows, the Sheriff does not. Big bads are totally not important to the plot (okay, so not yet anyway-that may change). In regards to his injury, I am not in any medical field whatsoever. I never even took anatomy or anything, so yeah? We are playing fast and loose with Supernatural canon when it comes to werewolves. Right now anyway. Shush, that also may change. In terms of timing within Supernatural, I currently have no idea. Enjoy!_

* * *

If he had to pick a time to get shot at by bow and shotgun wielding hunters, it would _not_ be the only night he was legitimately not on supernaturally related business in the woods. He was just being a good neighbor, but apparently trying to find Mrs. Hughes cat after it ran out into the woods meant he was just itching to get shot.

But hey, he found the cat.

Well, sort of.

* * *

"I'm not a were, dude! I'm just trying to find my neighbor's cat! She's like ten pounds of adorable grey fur!" Stiles whined, staring at crossbow pointed at him,

"Seriously, her name is Snowbelle! I'm not lying!"

The hunter released the bolt anyway, muttering something about lying werewolf scum.

Stiles let out in a strangled gasp as soon as the arrow embedded itself in his leg. It was followed by more swearing than he usually got up to, and then frantic defense of himself.

Okay, so Snowbelle was probably the worst name for a grey cat, let's be real. He could kind of understand why the hunters didn't believe him. But was shooting really necessary?!

"Don't you follow the code? Or are most hunters soulless bastards? You do know the pack here has an agreement with the Argents, right?"

The tall hunter with the shotgun looked extremely surprised at that. His companion just looked pissed, but Stiles gave no fucks about that at the moment. He's the one who got shot!

"Seriously, my dad is going to be so pissed. This fucking hurts!" he screeched, falling down to clutch at it angrily, "If you guys leave now, you might be able to get out of town before someone identifies you. You know, as the guys in the woods illegally hunting who accidentally shot the sheriff's kid with a fucking arrow?"

The two hunters whispered furiously at each other for several minutes before Stiles gave up and started to exaggerate, "Get out of here you assholes! I'll make sure the sheriff knows it was deliberate, inform the Argents of your abject stupidity, and let the local pack know hunters are attacking _human teenagers in the woods_."

The hunters left after that one, though Stiles made sure to attempt to commit their faces to memory before they did. They at least had the decency to anonymously call in a hunting accident before they hightailed it out of Beacon Hills. Okay, so he can only assume they actually did, as he's stuck in the fucking woods with an arrow painfully lodged in his knee, and thus doesn't actually know.

And damn it, his phone was still sitting on the kitchen table where he'd left it when he answered the door.

* * *

"Stiles? What happened?!" Derek dropped the cat to check his leg, and it seriously made Stiles want to hit him.

"Dude, I got shot over that damn cat don't you dare let her wander off again!"

"Who shot you, Stiles?" Derek growled, but he did pick up the cat again regardless.

"Stupid hunters. They took off once they realised I wasn't a fucking werewolf. Seriously, hold on to the cat so I can keep from worrying about her and bleeding out at the same time."

"Stiles, I need to get you to the hospital."

"The hunters already called an ambulance. I imagine someone will show up soon."

"Stiles-"

"Dude, I'll be fine. You can wait here until someone shows up if that would make it better. But someone else probably would have gotten shot chasing after Snowbelle, so at least it was someone who actually knew why they were being shot at."

* * *

A deputy Stiles doesn't recognise showed up not long after, and Derek ended up having to carry Stiles to the ambulance. Stiles wasn't completely sure why he had to, being a little out of it thanks to the pain in his leg.

The deputy told Derek to stay with Stiles so he could return the cat to Mrs. Hughes and get their statements at the hospital. It was kind of an uncomfortable ride, if he was completely honest.

Of course, he had the best luck in the world and Scott's mom was the nurse on call. She immediately called his dad, and pointedly shared a look with Stiles about _Derek_.

His dad was absolutely frantic when he arrived like three minutes later and of course he immediately noticed _Derek Hale_.

Unfortunately, Stiles finally passed out like fifteen seconds later and had no idea what happened next.

* * *

He cracked the first one not long after he woke up. His dad was not amused.

Stiles also had no idea how much Derek told him, so he let his dad lead that conversation.

"Hale told me he found a cat in the woods and was searching for a cell signal to call her owners when he found you. Said you told him some hunter shot you and then fled?"

"That is exactly what happened. Yes. It was Mrs. Hughes cat and I was looking for it." Stiles admitted, looking directly at his dad. It's not a lie, so it should be fine, right?

"So you and Hale _weren't_ together when it happened?"

"I used to search for a cat in the woods, and then I took an arrow to the knee-"

"Stiles!"

"Dad, I'm _fine_. Mrs. Hughes said Snowbelle ran off up into the woods, so I went to see if I could find her. I don't know if the hunters even saw me before they shot."

* * *

How anyone would expect him _not_ to make jokes about it was completely beyond him.

* * *

His knee was, thankfully, not too damaged. It was still incredibly painful, and he was stuck on crutches for at least the length of time he was stuck in a cast, but he was also totally aware that it could be much worse. If it had hit muscle instead of mostly just bone, he'd probably never walk on it again.

* * *

By the end of second period on his first day back at school, he'd already made no less than ten jokes about taking an arrow to the knee. He was about 99% positive that no one actually believed he was shot in the knee by an arrow, but seriously, how could he resist the joke?

* * *

Walking on crutches with a cast at school sucked way more than he was expecting. The jokes only kind of made it better by the end of the day. But he was definitely too exhausted to do anything but go home.

Unfortunately, Scott and Isaac were at practice and Lydia and Allison took off before Stiles even managed to get to his locker after last period, and his dad had seriously not shown up to pick him up yet.

"_Stilinski_."

"Dad, are you forgetting something?"

His dad swore, and Stiles was not really all that surprised.

_"I got caught up with something at work. I can't leave right now. Can you get a ride with one of your friends?"_

"I can try-"

_"Good. Let me know when you're home."_

Well, that was fun.

_Not_.

Stiles scrolled through his contacts before he realised that unless he wanted to wait until practice was over, the only person who _might_ pick him up right away was Derek.

He agonised for approximately thirty seconds before he called him.

_"Something happen?"_ Derek didn't even open with a hello, but Stiles wasn't exactly surprised either.

"Well, I used to drive myself home from school but then I took an arrow to the knee."

_"Are you calling me for a ride?"_

"Uh, maybe?" Stiles hesitated, hoping this wouldn't cost him another limb.

_"Your dad not coming to pick you up?"_

"He's working. Look, if you don't want to, I'll wait for Scott and Isaac to get out of practice. But I totally can't walk all the way home on crutches."

Derek hung up immediately afterward, leaving Stiles totally unsure if he would be getting a ride or not.

* * *

Derek showed up, of course, right as Stiles was about ready to give up and head towards the locker rooms to wait for Scott.

"Thanks," he said as he slid into the car. Derek put his crutches in the backseat and didn't reply _at all._

"Have you heard anything about the hunters?" Stiles questioned, "Are they still in town?" He was mostly asking to fill the empty space that Derek's not speaking left, but he also actually wanted to know the answer.

"I tracked them as far as I could before they got in their car. I could assume they left town since I haven't seen or smelled anything since."

"Thanks," he repeated. Derek looked at him for a moment, but didn't say anything.

They stayed in the awkward silence as Derek pulled out of the lot. Stiles finally managed to speak as they reached the road. "Seriously though, do you know why they were here anyway?" He asked, trying to break Derek's silence.

"No." he grunted, "Do you?"

Stiles snickered for a moment, another joke coming to mind, "I guess it would be too obvious if they were here to hunt some werewolves?"

"Usually they come with their own purpose and realize we're here afterward." he replied, frowning at the road as he drove.

"But why would they have come now? It's been weeks since anything happened. My dad hasn't mentioned anything about mysterious deaths lately either."

"They could have seen something older I guess…" Derek replied, "but why did they think you were a wolf? You're not exactly..."

"Well!" Stiles interjected, "I do hang out with the pack a lot… but maybe I just smell like a real man!" he grinned, lifting his arms up in petty attempt to show muscle that honestly, wasn't really there.

"You smell like sweat, Adderall and painkillers, and even if the hunters could smell that, it doesn't exactly explain why they would choose to go after you."

"Werewolves hang out in the woods, I hang out in the woods, you guys smell, I smell?" Stiles joked, "I'd say I'm one manly beard away from actually being one!"

Derek frowned even more, "This really isn't the time for bad jokes."

More uncomfortable silence.

"You think they're still in town, don't you?" Stiles questioned, fingers playing with the crust of his cast.

Derek nodded solemnly, "No doubt in my mind."

It was getting dark, even started to rain a little, filling in the gaps between talks with light taps against the windshield. Lacrosse practice would most certainly be over by now thanks to the rain, maybe he could talk to Scott about it later, yell at him for not signing his cast today too.

They stayed quiet the rest of the way to Stiles' house. The only words they really shared were when Derek was helping Stiles out of the car, propping him up in his crutches carefully.

"Thanks." Stiles muttered, suddenly finding his situation less comical than it had been earlier, with _Derek's hands_ all over him. Granted, they were there to make sure he didn't fall, but… _still_!

Derek smirked, "Like I'd just dump you and leave."

"I wouldn't have questioned it." Stiles teased, sticking his tongue out, "You are sourwolf after all. The sourest wolf of all!"

Derek snorted in response, but didn't reply. Not that Stiles really expected one. Other than "Shut up, Stiles." That one he kind of expected.

In any case, he switched his focus back to attempting to walk without falling over. Harder than it seemed after a day of agony, really. Derek walked alongside him, prepared to steady him if he started to fall. It was... nice. Different-_weird_-but nice.

"Later," Derek said as soon as they reached the door. And then there was no longer anyone to catch him if he fell.

It didn't occur to him until he was searching his pockets-given the fact that his dad had given him a ride to school and promised one back, his keys were probably inside. Where he left them.

Inside his _locked_ house.

He turned back to Derek, who was almost all the way back to his car.

"Hey, Derek?"

Stiles could hear the exasperated huff from all the way back at his door without special wolfy hearing, thank you very much. He waited while Derek took his time walking back.

"What do you need now, Stiles?"

"Well, I used to-"

"_Stiles_."

Stiles sends him a sheepish grin, "Can you break into my house and unlock the door?"

At first, Derek just took a moment to stare at him, like he'd said something totally alien. He shifted, folded his arms over his chest and frowned again, "What?"

"I locked myself out…?" he clarified.

Groaning, Derek started to stomp around the corner, shoving his hands into his coat pockets angrily. Halfway there, he stopped, "Window, yeah?"

"Mhm." Stiles nodded, still sporting his innocent facade of a grin.

Within seconds Derek was off the ground, leaping up onto the side of the house before carefully ducking in through the window. Stiles watched in awe as the werewolf's agility was beautifully displayed. His bedroom light quickly flicked on, then the hall, a trail of lights leading to his front door. Stiles watched the knob twist and rattle as Derek opened it, before taking a heavy breath and coming to his side.

Stiles smiled to himself, letting the alpha guide him inside, "Thanks."

"Mhm." Derek grunted in response.

Stiles took a few seconds to assess before he decided to just ask already.

"I don't suppose you'd help me upstairs before you go off to do more important werewolf things?" He joked,_ kind of_.

It would be really nice to get some help up the stairs. It was hard enough with his dad helping, the idea of doing it himself was almost terrifying. A werewolf's strength would definitely be handy in a situation like this.

"You're not serious are you?"

"No, I'm not Sirius. I'm Stiles. " he smirked.

He quickly decided that it was best to steer clear of jokes when he heard Derek snarl, and continued, "Yes, I'm serious. Do you really think I'd ask if I wasn't?"

"Fine. But then I'm leaving." Derek sighed.

What Stiles expected, was that Derek would let him lean on him as he made his way up the stairs of doom. What he _didn't_ expect is exactly what happened.

Derek took his crutches away, leaving him to balance himself against the door, and then _he picked him up_. Not even like a manly-okay, so there wasn't really _any_ manly way to be picked up. But if there was, being practically cradled in someone's arms would totally be the _least_ manly way ever. It was literally called bridal style, _princess_ _carry_.

Derek took the steps in two quick jumps and, while that was a lot faster than waddling up would have been, it was also probably ten times more embarrassing to do it that way.

"Did you _really_ have to princess carry me? Why not do it fireman style? On your back? Over your head like a pro wrestler?! Anything other than that!" Stiles complained once he was back on his feet, crutches in hand. And yeah, he wasn't even sure how Derek had gotten him and his crutches up at the same time.

"Did you want me to potentially injure your leg even further? Because I could have done that._ I still could_." he informed him, glaring at Stiles as he started to slowly crutch his way to the bedroom, keeping eye contact the entire time.

Okay, maybe keeping eye contact was a bad idea while walking on crutches. The left nub caught on the floor, sending him stumbling forward, forcing him to let out a short yelp as he felt himself fall.

Derek's arms shot out lightning fast, grabbing him up in his arms before he had a chance to make contact with the hardwood floorboards.

Stiles had shut his eyes when he started to fall, opening them now to find himself dangerously close to Derek's, well, _everything_.

With the wolf's warm arms wrapped around him, Stiles found it nearly impossible not to notice things like Derek's stubble scratching against his cheek. Normally, he would have attempted to scramble away by now, but thanks to his knee, that wasn't going to happen.

"Th-thanks." Stiles was pretty sure it sounded more like a squeak than genuine appreciation, but he was also sure other words-_much less appropriate_ _words_-would have come out if he'd waited any longer to respond.

Derek released his grip slowly, almost cautiously, helping Stiles stand with help of a nearby door frame. Derek let him get comfortable in his stance before he did another thing that Stiles would never have expected. _Not in a thousand years._

Derek slipped his arm under Stiles', wrapping it around his waist. It took Stiles a few more seconds than it should have to realise Derek was trying to help him across the hall and into his room.

It didn't take long for them to reach his room, what with Derek doing most of the work. Stiles, already being both grateful and embarrassed by most of what had already occurred since school let out, almost tried to thank Derek again-but stopped his mouth before the words can get out. He already feels enough like a damsel in distress without the need to thank him a thousand times.

Derek leaned over to help Stiles sit once they reached the bed but the loud, authoritative voice of his dad calling for him from downstairs startled them both, knocking Derek off balance and over Stiles, pushing him down onto his back. Stiles was pretty sure he could hear his heart pounding in his head as he looked up, only inches away from Derek's face, with Derek staring right back at him. For a few seconds they stayed like that, just staring at each other, Derek's arm still wrapped around him and caging him down. Before Stiles could even think of anything to say, he heard heavy footsteps approaching.

Derek was up and out the window before Stiles had a chance to move, leaving him just laying there on his back, staring up at the ceiling. And he didn't move when his dad slammed the door open roughly a few seconds later, just lay there wondering about a lot of Derek Hale related things.

Stiles had only just started to sit up by the time the sheriff had made it to the window, eagerly searching below.

"Dad? What are you doing?" Stiles questioned, hiding his nervousness.

"That Hale boy…" he started, frowning more to himself then Stiles.

"What about him?"

"His car is out front." the sheriff replied, an accusing tone to his voice, "I thought maybe he was in here…"

"Why would he be here?" Stiles asked in response, hoping his nervousness didn't come through as he spoke.

Yeah, judging by the look on his dad's face, he's pretty sure he failed that pop quiz.


End file.
